Lost
by JuliaBC
Summary: AU. Reid is a stock boy at a grocery store, interrupted by a child looking for his father. Two shot.
1. Spencer

Lost

* * *

Spencer Reid had been at his shift for three hours now, in the uniform of dark vest, khaki slacks and white shirt. The store was busy as usual, and he had seen the usual array of customers for a Wednesday. More seniors, because seniors got special deals on Wednesdays. Less moms because there were too many seniors.

Spencer was mindlessly restocking the peanut butter, keeping himself amused by recalling last night's Star Trek rerun. He was going through the dialogue in his head, glad for his eidetic memory, when the radio at his belt crackled to life.

"We need someone at the deli counter, pronto." It was the manager, Kelly. Since Spencer didn't work the deli, he ignored it, knowing that someone else would be on their way.

Radios were unusual for a grocery store, but the intercom system was being updated and they'd been using the radios were a few weeks now.

Spencer went back to the peanut butter, checking his urge to whistle.

Then he felt a tug and looked down. A boy stood there, about six, and he seemed to be fighting the urge to cry.

"Hey, little man, what's wrong?" Spencer asked, immediately dropping the scanner and crouching down beside him.

"I can't find my daddy," the boy said, in a quiet voice that further proved the hypothesis that he was fighting back tears.

"Who is your daddy?" When the kid looked blank, Spencer tried again. "Where did you last see him?"

"Passing the toys. I stopped to look and then he was gone."

Spencer considered things. He could sure use the intercom right now and the boy seemed to have the same idea.

"What about the voice thing?" He asked, and through some miracle, or because they were thinking the same thing, Spencer knew what the boy was talking about.

"It's broken," he told him, and this appeared to be too much. The tears in his eyes overflowed and Spencer panicked.

"No, don't cry. It will be okay. We'll find your daddy. What's his name?"

"Aaron Hotchner," the boy stumbled. "And I'm Jack."

"Of course, of course," Reid murmured. "Come on, it's okay."

"No, it isn't!" Jack wailed, and Spencer, without thinking, picked him up.

"We'll go find him, okay, Jack?" He asked, resisting the urge to cradle the boy closer. He was already breaking protocol by holding him but Jack's tears were making him want to hurry and Jack was in no mood to walk quickly.

Spencer walked quickly through the store, thinking that he'd go back to where the toys were and see if Jack's father was there. His sneakers slid over the floors as Spencer checked each aisle for someone that could be Jack's father, a hard task considering that he had no idea what the man looked like.

Jack's tears weren't slowing and Spencer was glad of the muscles he'd gained since working here; otherwise his arms would have hurt from holding Jack so long.

"Curses on the one who decided we needed a new system," he growled to himself, as one would have made this have been over minutes ago.

"Okay, Jack, what does your father look like? How old is he?"

Jack's tears slowed as he tried to answer. "He has dark hair and he's tall."

"What's he wearing?"

"Um…" Jack concentrated. "I don't remember."

"What about your mother?" Spencer asked, hoping that another adult would make this end sooner.

"She's gone," Jack said softly, and Spencer wondered what exactly 'gone' meant. Since the mention of her caused Jack's tears to return, Spencer guessed 'gone' meant dead. Poor kid. His mother was gone and his father was careless enough to lose him in a grocery store with twelve aisles. If Spencer had been a pedophile, he wouldn't even have to have tried to get Jack.

Spencer let Jack back down. "Let's walk a bit. Do you—do you want some candy?"

He was feeling more like an offender every second.

"Daddy says not to take candy from strangers."

"I'm not a stranger, I'm Spencer," Spencer retorted, dying at how stupid that sounded.

Jack sniffled. "What kind of candy?"

"I have a piece of licorice," Spencer offered, and Jack crinkled his nose.

"Licorice isn't candy."

"Okay, well, there's a vending machine over there. I can get you something from that."

With the mention of candy, and the fact that candy from a vending machine definitely wasn't drugged, both Jack and Spencer felt comforted. Jack speeded right over to it and stood so close he almost pressed his nose against the glass.

"I want the Snickers," he said and Spencer fumbled for exact change.

"All right, you can put them in."

Jack took the proffered coins gladly and carefully slipped them into the machine, always waiting for the previous coin to clang before he inserted the next.

"And Snickers is number 69, Jack," Spencer told him and Jack carefully put in the numbers. It was then everything failed. The candy bar didn't fall, and Spencer remembered that the machine was out of order.

"Ooh," Spencer groaned as Jack's face fell and he madly pushed the numbers again. Nothing happened.

"It's broken," Jack really wailed this time.

"It's okay, Jack, it's okay," Spencer assured him madly, stumbling over the words in his panic. "Don't cry."

"I want my daddy," Jack sobbed, and Spencer again lifted him into his arms, jiggling him to get him to stop.

"I'm not a baby," Jack wailed. "Don't bounce me."

"Sorry, sorry, Jack. Listen, do you want to—"

"What are you doing with my son?" Interrupted a cold, baritone voice. Spencer froze.

* * *

Aaron Hotchner had spent the last ten minutes madly searching for his son, and was just about to have a minor panic attack when he spotted him in the arms of a tall, gangly stock boy. Jack was crying and, as relieved as Aaron was to find him, he was also angry to see him in this position.

The boy—no, he was older than that—spun around, his hair flying into his face. "Oh, sir, I am so sorry, but he was lost and he was crying and—"

During the frenzied sentence, Aaron had taken Jack and the boy was now using his hands to wildly gesticulate. "I swear, I was not going to do anything to him. I was just buying him a candy bar and the machine was broken and Jack went a little—"

After making certain that Jack was, indeed, fine, Aaron let his son down, keeping a tight hold on his hand.

The boy, whose tag read Spencer, was looking less gangly and more competent. He'd straightened and had stopped babbling and was now regarding Aaron with a steady stare.

"I was just helping him," Spencer stated firmly.

Aaron held up a hand. "No, it's okay. I overreacted. I'm just glad he's okay."

* * *

Spencer felt as though a world had been lifted from his shoulders at the words. He'd had the fright of his life to hear such words, spoken in such a voice, by…such a man. Aaron Hotchner was indeed tall and dark haired and Spencer fought to keep his thoughts and words on Jack.

"Well, I'll be going now," Spencer muttered finally, realizing he'd been staring at Aaron when the man cleared his throat.

He twisted his body to sidle past Aaron, but the man turned and caught his arm.

"Seriously, uh, Spencer. Thank you for looking after him."

Spencer tried not to stare at the hand on his arm. "You're—" he cleared his throat— "Welcome."

He felt the man's eyes on his back until he turned the corner where he leaned against the wall and put his head in his hands.

What an encounter.

* * *

A/N: This is before Reid is recruited. Once I had published it, I found that I wanted to add some more with Hotch so I'm adding another chapter soon.


	2. Aaron

Lost

* * *

Basically, the AU is that Aaron had Jack six years before he did in the show. Haley still died but in different circumstances.

* * *

It took Aaron a second to realize that he'd just been very rude. He'd managed to make it somewhat better before Spencer left, but he still felt ashamed of his tone when he'd first spoken. Spencer hadn't been doing anything wrong; in fact, considering the circumstances, maybe picking up Jack was the best thing. Jack had cried more easily since his mother's death a year ago and sometimes it was hard to get him to stop.

With that thought in mind, Aaron picked up Jack himself and walked swiftly in the direction Spencer had gone, around the corner, but…Spencer was already gone. Aaron stopped for a moment to look around and Spencer was nowhere in sight.

So Aaron concluded his shopping, all the while wondering where the man had gone, and wishing there was some way he could go back and not be rude to him.

* * *

Aaron Hotchner sat at his desk, shifting papers around, when a knock at his door interrupted him.

"Come in," he said almost immediately, without looking up. The way the steps sounded told him it was Gideon, and he smiled before he looked up.

"Aaron. Listen, I was over at the Academy and I think I just found someone who'd be perfect for the spot."

"Oh? Who?"

Gideon handed him a folder. "A Dr. Reid. He's a genius, you know the type. Twenty-two and already has two degrees. I knew you'd like to preview him before any official channels were taken. I told him to come here at three tomorrow for an interview with you."

It was Gideon's usual way of breaking news. Aaron just smiled and acquiesced.

* * *

Once Gideon was gone, Aaron took a look at the paperwork.

Dr. Spencer Reid.

Spencer.

Aaron dropped the papers as the word conjured up the images of Spencer the stock boy, Spencer the life saver, Spencer the demigod—or at least, that was how Jack talked about him, and why Jack wouldn't stop talking about him.

Spencer.

Spencer, the reason that Aaron had gone to the grocery store probably more times in the past month than he had in his entire life. Sometimes with Jack, sometimes alone. He wanted to…thank him again. He knew he'd been rude and Spencer had been so apologetic.

And…Jack wouldn't stop talking about him.

And…Aaron couldn't stop thinking about him, about the whole thing.

* * *

He'd been only thinking that he wasn't sure where the frozen food was, when Jack just disappeared. He remembered dismissing it as he retraced his steps back to the toy aisle. Jack had almost shrieked when he saw it; he was sure to be there.

But Aaron had stopped, for a just a moment, to look at a display and when he got to the toy aisle, Jack was nowhere in sight.

Even then, he hadn't worried. Jack was smart. He knew to not go away with any strange adults. So Aaron strolled along the aisles parallel to the toys. And Jack was nowhere in sight. Then he began to panic.

"Jack," he called softly, not yet wanting to attract attention. Nothing.

"Oh, no," he murmured. "This can't happen. I can't…"

He started to jog, looking madly in each aisle and Jack was nowhere.

"Come on, Aaron, just think!" He hissed to himself. "Remember!"

And then he heard the unmistakable sound of Jack crying. He had frozen, not even believing it, then going in the direction as fast as he could.

He skidded to a stop when he saw a lanky…boy…holding Jack. His caramel hair was swinging into his eyes; he was holding Jack to get him to stop crying and Aaron had felt something hit him. Something that he refused to identify, at least at the time.

Just remembering it made Aaron feel that same something. He came back to his desk, blinking at the sudden change. Spencer disappeared.

And Aaron forced himself to put aside all thoughts of him. He turned back to Dr. Reid's paperwork.

* * *

At promptly three, Aaron adjusted his tie and looked out the window in his office and his jaw dropped.

For outside, awkwardly loping to Hotch's door, was Spencer.

He was dressed much the same, but the vest wasn't part of a uniform and there was no badge. He didn't wear glasses now and he looked even more nervous than when Hotch had snapped at him in the store.

Hotch grimaced at the memory of it.

Knowing that any delay would just invite questions from the other members of the team spying from the bullpen, Aaron got up and walked to the door. A deep breath, a pause with his hand on the doorknob, and Hotch opened it.

"Dr. Spencer Reid?" He asked, knowing full well it was.

Spencer, who'd just sat down, shot up like a firecracker and his eyes popped.

"Come in," Aaron said, and Spencer—Dr. Reid—opened his mouth to speak and Aaron, panicking, grabbed him by the arm and dragged him inside, shutting the door before Spen—Dr. Reid—could say anything.

"I—I—" Dr. Reid stumbled, and then he realized what was happening. "I'm Dr. Spencer Reid, yes. As you, um, probably know I have PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry and Engineering. I also have BAs in Psychology and Sociology and I am considering getting one for Philosophy. Um, Agent Gideon told me to speak to you when he came to the Academy last week." A nervous laugh. "Apparently, I made an impression on him."

_He's not the only one you made an impression on._

Spe—DR. REID—was avoiding Aaron's gaze wildly, his eyes shooting everywhere in Hotch's office before they rested on his extended hand that had remained so all throughout his frenzied first statement.

"Oh!" He extended his own.

"I'm Unit Chief Aaron…Hotchner." He began. "Sit down."

There was a normal moment when he sat down and then a bizarre one when Dr. Reid made to sit down and missed the chair. "Oh, I am so sorry," he muttered, jumping back up. His grip on the chair was white knuckled as he pulled it out further and sat down. Once in the chair, his knee was jiggling and he was trying to make it stop, he tucked his hair behind his ear every thirty seconds and Aaron couldn't figure out how to make him stop, or why he was still so nervous when he realized that two minutes had passed and the only thing he'd done was stare at Sp—Dr. Reid.

"What made you decide to enter the Academy?" Hotch finally asked, turning his attention to his desk and pretending the paperwork on it was for Dr. Reid.

"I had a unique childhood. I guess I want to understand humanity better. I must admit that I did have the BAU in mind when I—when I applied. The idea of a unit that studies people's behavior in order to catch them intrigued me immensely." Dr. Reid was more in his element and therefore was speaking calmly. Hotch let out a breath of relief.

"You seemed to have trouble with the physical side of things at the Academy."

"Yes, my talents are not physical," Dr. Reid began, his tone implying he didn't much care. "I took a job at a grocery store to help with that; I was a…stock boy and did a lot of lifting. I know I'll never be coordinated enough to do that blasted obstacle course but I realized that if the situation is real, I can actually hold my ground with fugitives."

"Oh?"

"Purse snatching. I caught him. And it wasn't my purse."

Hotch nodded. A pause.

"Another area I have trouble with is marksmanship. I've failed my—"

"Yes, yes, that's fine. We can have someone tutor you for that before you try again."

"Who? Someone in the unit?"

Another pause. "Maybe."

"How many members are on the team?"

"Currently, it is me and Agents Gideon, Morgan, Jareau and our technical analyst Penelope Garcia. She never goes into the field. We have two empty spots, one which you will fill."

"I will?"

"You are more than qualified," Hotch told him, this time actually looking at Dr. Reid's paperwork. "And I trust Agent Gideon. Yes, the position is yours."

Dr. Reid looked shocked. "So…Agent Hotch—Hotchner, you aren't going to touch upon what happened—"

"No." He stood, rather abruptly and Dr. Reid stood along with him. He was almost the same height and his eyes met Aaron's easily now.

"Thank you for the opportunity, sir," Spencer stuck out his hand and Hotch took it. There was an awkward moment where both forgot to shake but then Hotch pulled away to open the door for Spencer.

"I look forward to working with you, Dr. Reid," he assured him, and Reid hurried past him, speed walking to the elevators.

Once at them, once he'd pressed the down button, he turned and looked over his shoulder and saw Hotch still standing there, watching him.

He waved.

And Aaron smiled back.

And Spencer…

Spencer…

Left.

* * *

A/N: I know that some details are probably not well done—for the show and for practical details of how those interviews would work—but my motto is characters first, plot and details seconds. So I know that I got some stuff wrong but I'm not that fussed about it, to be honest.

So how did I do? Were Reid and Hotch accurate?


End file.
